by Tricia Goyer
He looked up from his plans. “What?”
“This.” She gazed around the room wistfully.
Sean’s eyes followed her.
“I wanted to be a mom. Marry a wonderful man, and I did. Have beautiful babies and raise them. And I did. I am.” The words came out more as frustration than thankfulness, and Allyson pounded a soft fist on her leg.
“I don’t get it, Sean.” She blew out an exasperated breath, trying to hold back her tears. “This is my dream. I’m living it, and I’m not happy.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling them in close. “How come I feel like this?”
Sean lowered his head, as if feeling defeat. “I don’t know.” She hugged herself hard. She didn’t want him to feel this way. It’s not like he had done anything wrong, and deep down she knew he couldn’t fix it either.
Allyson returned to folding. “I’m a horrible person,” she muttered. There. She finally said the words. She’d been feeling them. Almost from Day 1 of this parenting thing she had felt them, but they were words she couldn’t voice. It was easier to put on a smile and continue on. Always continue on.
“No, you’re not a horrible person.”
Allyson peered up at Sean from under her lashes. She could tell he was trying to figure out what to say to her. What to do with her.
She swallowed hard. “I’m just tired. I’m sorry . . .”
He leaned closer to her, as if wanting her to pay attention to his words. “You don’t have to be sorry, alright? You don’t have to be sorry. You have to choose to do something for yourself. Do something for yourself. You have to do it. You’re the only person who can do that—”
“Sean,” she interrupted, but he continued on.
“It’s the kind of thing . . . that, if you just . . .”
“Sean!” His name came out louder than she planned. She blew out a quick breath. “I—I don’t need a lecture right now. It’s not helpful in this particular moment.”
“What?” He lifted his eyebrows. “I’m listening to you. I’m sitting here and listening to you. “
“I know, I know you’re listening,” she let her voice trail off.
“And I’m hearing you,” he added.
She smirked. “You’re doing both of those things? Listening and hearing?” Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips together.
He chuckled. “I am, I’m very talented.” He pointed a finger into the air. “And I’m showing marked improvement. You have to give me that. I want credit.”
The doorbell interrupted their banter.
Allyson looked to the door. Her mind raced, trying to remember if someone was going to stop by. No, she didn’t think so. She looked to Sean, and her heart sank when she saw the guilty look on his face.
“Who is that?” she asked.
Sean released a heavy sigh. “That would be Bridget.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I called Bridget and I invited her to dinner . . . and I forgot.”
“Dinner?” Allyson’s mouth gaped open. She hadn’t even thought of dinner, and that was a problem. No, actually the problem was that her family expected to eat . . . every single night.
“Open up, you community of losers, let me in. I’m hungry,” Bridget’s voice filtered in from outside.
He cast her a look that said, Forgive me?
“It’s fine. We’ll just whip something up.” Sean circled his hands in the air, and then he rose and moved toward the front door.
“Oh, we’ll just whip something up? Because that’s how that happens.” She tossed the towel she’d been folding onto the couch. “We’ll do it together. Looking forward to whipping something up . . . together.”
***
Allyson opened the door to see Bridget standing there. Petite, blonde, beautiful, Bridget had been such a darling girl when Allyson and Sean were dating. Allyson had met Sean’s half-sister at her seventh birthday party. She’d worn a pink Cinderella dress and had long blonde ringlets. She’d embraced Allyson’s neck and planted a wet kiss on her cheek when presented with “glass slippers” that were made of a really hard, uncomfortable looking plastic. Yet the years hadn’t been easy on Sean’s sister.
“Hey, what took you so long?” Bridget asked as she strode in with baby Phoenix on her hip. She wore tight jeans, mid-Goth makeup, and Allyson noticed new hot pinks streaks in Bridget’s blonde hair with some purple ones added in for fun. Nice.
Thankfully Sean felt super guilty for inviting Bridget over without warning, so he entertained the kids while she cooked. Spaghetti with sauce from a jar. Frozen dinner rolls and salad . . . the easiest meal on earth.
But then came the dinner conversation. Allyson tried not to wince as Bridget spilled all the details of her life and even showed off her new nose ring. Bridget always said awkward things. Bridget had no filter. At least dinner tonight wasn’t as awkward as last week when Bridget wanted to show off her stretch marks.
Allyson breathed a sigh of relief when dinner ended and no new words were said that her kids would pick up and have to be grounded for tomorrow.
Sean—still feeling guilty—dismissed the kids from the table and set to work clearing it. Allyson stayed seated wondering just how far his guilt would take him. All the way to filling the dishwasher? This would be fun to see.
Sean cleaned off her plate, and then moved to get Bridget’s.
Bridget swatted at Sean’s hand. “Hey, I’m not done with that. Give it back.” Then her scowl disappeared and a smile quickly replaced it.
“So, great news. I got an extra job. We needed something more so I picked up a night shift at a bowling alley.” She stabbed her salad with a fork.
Allyson spooned another spoonful of carrots into baby Phoenix’s mouth, and she felt her eyes widen. A lump formed in her throat as if she’d just swallowed a whole carrot. Allyson had no doubt that Bridget did need extra money. Her Prince Charming had turned into a frog and had leapt away as soon as he could, running from all responsibility. The problem wasn’t Bridget’s need. It was her ability. How could the single mom add in one more thing to her already part-time job and school? Allyson knew exactly how . . . and sweat beaded on her brow.
“That is unbelievably cool,” Sean exclaimed, obviously not putting two and two together.
Allyson looked to baby Phoenix. Ten months old and the sweetest thing. She supposed if Bridget needed help—
No. Stop that!
Allyson’s mouth gaped open, and she bit her knuckle. Oh no, here it comes. She knows I compulsively take care of people.
In the pyramid of codependence, Allyson was the peak, and all the dependent people filtered down from there. Sometimes they were shuffled slightly, depending on need, but always . . . always their needs were met by her.
My kids, her kids, other kids, kids at the park I don’t know, stray animals. I can’t say no.
She gritted her teeth and focused on Bridget. Her eyebrows lifted as she waited for the words to come. 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .
Bridget turned to her. “I start on Saturday night, and I was hoping you could watch Phoenix while I work.”
And then a realization popped in her head. And Allyson glanced over to the calendar on her fridge and the big red circle that she’d drawn around Saturday.
“Saturday night?” she hurriedly said. “Oh, um, normally yes. I’m glad you brought that up.” Allyson winced and turned to Sean. “Because I planned a Moms’ night thing . . . for Saturday.” She gritted her teeth.
“What?” Sean turned, a look of disbelief on his face. “You planned a moms’ night?”
Allyson scratched behind her ear. “Yeah, I planned one.”
Bridget’s mouth gaped open. “What? You always watch Phoenix on the weekends. I was sort of counting on you when I got the job.” She pointed at Phoenix with her fork.
“Yeah, um.” Allyson fought against the urge to tell her it would be fine—that she could do it. She pressed her lips tight and looked to Sean.
Instead of anger
at her making plans without asking him, his face brightened. “You know how a flight attendant goes through the safety thing?” He talked with his hands, emphasizing his words, walking back toward them. “You know when you have to put on your oxygen first before assisting others?”
Allyson’s brow furrowed, and she wondered where he was going with this. “Are we flying somewhere? Is this what we’re doing?” She cocked her head to the side.
“You need your oxygen mask, Allyson. You need your mask on, before assisting others.” He pointed his fingers to Allyson, then to Bridget and then back to her. “Right? Before you can help others.”
Bridget sat up straighter, obviously not happy with where this conversation was going. “Wow, Sean, we get it.” She bobbed her head from side-to-side. “It’s a metaphor. I think we both . . . we got it.”
Sean pointed at his sister, like a school teacher pointing out a top pupil. “It’s a very good metaphor, thank you for pointing it out.”
He looked to Allyson. “You will go Saturday night. Saturday night,” he repeated as if making a mental note of the day. He pounded the table with his finger, emphasizing his words.
“Saturday night,” she echoed softly, partly in disbelief that this was going so well.
“You will go Saturday night?” This time his words were more like a question than a statement. “Really?” Disappointment flashed on his face.
“Oh no!” Bridget whined, catching on to the change in her brother’s countenance. “Sean’s not going to be able to play video games on Saturday night with his loser friends!”
“First of all, that’s low.” Sean pointed at her, the big brother coming out. “You don’t even know Kevin.”
“I know Kevin.”
Allyson knew Kevin, too, and for once she found herself on Bridget’s side. Obviously they had the same opinion this time.
Kevin was Sean’s best friend. They met when they were in the fifth grade. They started playing video games as juveniles. And they were still playing video games like juveniles.
The worst part was, Kevin WAS a kid. And Sean always justified this relationship, even though it revolved around childish things.
So usually on Saturday nights as she was trying to put the kids to bed Allyson heard something like this . . . loud, way too loud coming from the den.
Don’t stand right behind me, move over, move over.
No, no, back up, back up. I just died.
I didn’t shoot you. The guy behind you shot you.
And no matter what anyone said, Sean not only justified his relationship with Kevin, but his habit too.
“I use video games to transition from work stress,” he said defensively. “That’s my oxygen. I put mine on.”
He moved his fingers as if he was playing a Gameboy. “Video games equal oxygen . . .” Then he pointed to Allyson. “So I can help you put yours on, and you can help the rest of the world.”
Allyson scooped up another spoonful of baby food and tried to hide her smile. It was just something about her husband she had to accept . . . as hard as it was at times. “Thank you.” She swooped the spoon into the baby’s mouth.
Bridget didn’t seem quite as amused, especially as Sean launched into fix-it mode. “Who’s going to watch the baby? What about Joey?” he asked.
Bridget smirked. “Uh, no.”
Joey was Bridget’s ex, and the father of baby Phoenix. He was a fun guy, in a noncommittal, allergic-to-all-responsibility kind of way.
“No, I tried that.” There was a sense of sadness, more than anger as Bridget said those words, and it about broke Allyson’s heart.
“Here’s the thing.” Sean puffed out his chest. “You’re going out, and I’m going to watch Phoenix.”
“You’re going to watch Phoenix?” Allyson asked.
A smile touched his lips. “I will watch Phoenix, big brother to the rescue once again, and everyone’s happy.”
Bridget straightened in her seat and then tossed back her hair. She could ask for help—and she often did—but Bridget’s defenses rose up and red flaming arrows shot from her eyes every time someone accused her of being a charity case.
“I don’t need your charity, and I certainly don’t need your metaphors.” She pounded the table, open palms. Then she rose and lifted Phoenix out of the high chair with a swoop. “So I’m going to go and get you to bed. Because that’s the responsible thing to do, because I’m so responsible. Later.”
“See you later,” Allyson said, unsure if she was thankful or guilty over how this went down. Probably both.
“Look for your oxygen!” Sean called after Bridget. “You’ll find it.”
Sean let out a large, heavy sigh. “I thought that went well.” His words disagreed with the look on his face, but Allyson remembered something else. Something very important she forgot to mention.
The words spilled out before she could hold them back. “And also, Marco is bringing the twins over because he’s afraid to watch them alone.” She offered a weak smile. “Surprise!” She added in a sing-song voice, and then winced. “Sorry.”
“That’s a lot of kids.” Sean put on a brave face, and Allyson remembered why she loved him. She promised herself then that she’d get her oxygen, and make his sacrifice worth it.
Five more days. Just five more days.
CHAPTER SIX
Allyson crossed out the last day on the calendar page.
FREEDOM she’d written in big letters on Saturday, and now today was the day.
The house was quiet, too quiet, as she got dressed. But she didn’t want to think about that—worry about that. Sean was here, and he was taking care of the kids. Tonight was her night. This was her oxygen.
She went to her closet and pulled out her rhinestone, studded stilettos. The shoes that she had just cried into a few days before. She smoothed her dress, slipped on her heels, and then put on the rhinestone bracelet and matching earrings she’d gotten two anniversaries ago but had never worn. Then Allyson took tentative steps to the bathroom to finish her makeup. Her ankles wobbled a little as she walked, and she realized it had been a long time—too long—since she’d worn heels like this.
Standing in front of the mirror Allyson was pleased with what she saw. It was better than the jeans and soft tees that she usually wore.
With soft swipes she put on her lipstick. Her hair was pinned up in a Betty Grable sort of way and it looked . . . nice.
She stepped back from the mirror, and for the first time in a long time she was happy by how she looked, pleased even. She picked up a small bottle of perfume and sprayed her wrists. The scent of orange blossoms drifted up. Perfect. Then with tentative steps she walked down the stairs, pausing by the door to glance at their kids. They were glued in front of the television watching an old Tom and Jerry cartoon, Sean’s favorite, but he was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the time on her cell phone and hurried outside. She had just enough time to pick up Izzy and Sondra and make it to Chez Magique in time for their reservation.
She hurriedly exited the house, snapping her clutch closed as she walked, and spotted Sean wrangling Beck’s car seat out of her minivan.
Sean froze when he saw her. His jaw dropped. He eyed her from head to foot and back up again. “Wow.”
She tugged on the bottom hem of her dress, hoping it wasn’t too short, and offered a tentative smile.
“Wow, honey, you look amazing.”
“Are you sure tonight’s okay? Because I’m starting to feel guilty again.”
“It’s fine. Com’on, yes. You’re gonna have fun. I’ve got this. I’m not going to call you unless it’s a natural disaster. And then I might not even call you. The house may be flying . . .” He waved his hands from side to side for emphasis. “And I’m not even calling you at that point.”
She chuckled, relief flooding her. He cared for her . . . he really did, and he wanted this for her.
“Promise me that you’ll do one thing,” Sean continued, his voice softening to almost
a whisper. “Promise me that you’ll do whatever it takes to unplug and just breathe.”
Allyson closed her eyes. She blew out a heavy breath. Peace filled her just thinking about that. Her husband was so sweet. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve this . . . but he was right. She needed it.
She let her eyes flutter open. “I promise.”
Then, with the sweetest smile, Sean handed her the keys for her van.
Peace filled her, but it was short lived. The roar of a car’s engine interrupted the quiet moment. She recognized that sound. Her head flipped around, and a red Chevy Nova parked in the street.
“Uncle Kevin!” Brandon called out as he raced out of the house.
Man-boy Kevin wore torn jeans, a ratty T-shirt, and a green sweatshirt that had seen better days. Brandon leapt into Kevin’s arms with abandon.
Kevin nodded to her as he strode past. “Allyson.” He hoisted Brandon up on his arm like a trophy.
“Kevin?” She lifted one eyebrow and turned back to Sean.
“Yeah, Kevin’s coming,” he muttered, scratching his cheek. “He’s gonna help with the kids.” He swallowed hard. “He might help with the kids.”
She lifted the other eyebrow.
“He’s here to help. He had a free night,” Sean hurriedly added.
“Kevin is babysitting?” she hurriedly asked.
“No, I’m babysitting.” Sean pointed to himself. “Kevin’s just here.”
“Get in here, Stout Flipper, let’s do this,” Kevin called to him.
Allyson turned back to him. “What?”
“It’s gamer time.” Kevin growled.
She turned back to Sean who wore a pained expression.
“Please tell me you’re not going to play those violent video games—”
“Double kill!” Brandon called out.
She gasped. “—with our son.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Triple kill!” he shouted louder.
“You know, you’re going to have to define violence.” Sean guided her to the van. “Because do you know that Lego game you bought? Those characters shatter like into a million pieces.”
